Sorcerers Don't Sleep
by The Assassin's Pen
Summary: Stephen fails to realize that there is a big difference between sleeping for real and letting his body sleep while he burns himself out with astral study sessions. Wong and the cloak are both exasperated.


Hi I loved this movie and am complete trash for Stephen Strange and his cloak.

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Wong was starting to get irritated. Stephen had found a new spell path that challenged him and was spending all his spare time studying, determined to consume and master it just as quickly as he had so many things back in Nepal. For the sixth time in fifteen minutes he went rushing past Wong in a sweep of blue, muttering to himself as he climbed the library ladder, took down another four books, and went whisking back out again.

Less than ten minutes later and he was back. This time, Wong stopped him with a hand on his chest. "Stephen-" his eyes widened, staring down at his hand in shock. Stephen's heart was pounding, running borderline tachycardic. "When was the last time you slept?" he demanded.

"My body just slept for twelve hours," Strange said, shoving Wong's hand away and shooting back up the ladder.

Wong's eyes narrowed and he folded his arms. "And your mind? When was the last time that rested?"

Stephen scoffed and gave him a look from the top of the ladder, another heavy book balanced in the crook of his arm. "The brain rests when the body sleeps. Thought that was common knowledge."

"Did I say brain? No. I said mind. You've been running around like this for a week."

Strange whisked by him, only this time Wong followed. "And my body has slept between eight and ten hours every night in the last week. I get more rest now than I ever did in medical school." He waved a hand dismissively.

Wong followed him through the house and up a flight of steps into the room where all the relics that didn't free roam the house were kept. Gods knew where the cloak of levitation was at that moment. It was worse than a cat. Stephen dumped the new book on a table already absolutely covered in books, diagrams, and notes.

"Your body and your astral body are still connected!" Wong exclaimed. "Your mind hasn't rested in over a week, and neither has your brain. You're burning yourself out—can you feel what your heart is doing right now? You're a doctor, you know that's not healthy."

"Twelve hours," Stephen stressed, leaning over the table and looking mildly manic. "Did you not hear me? I did this plenty of times in Nepal. I let my body sleep while I studied with my astral form."

"But not for a week on end!" The exasperation was reaching new levels. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Strange, you're an idiot. What is your astral form?"

"My awareness outside of my body. My soul, if you will."

"Yes, very good. Now, what connects the soul to the body?"

"Life," Strange answered, wrinkling his nose and shuffling the books around. He glanced up at Wong. "As long as the body is alive, the astral form can return to it. What point are you trying to make?"

"No, Stephen," he said, leaning on the table. "Your _brain_. Yes, you must be alive, yes the soul is a separate thing from the body, but your brain is the connection. A living brain and nervous system makes it so your astral form _can_ connect back with the body. There is an element of rest going on physically—but not for your brain. Your brain is sustaining the projection. When you astral project your brain is more active than when you're awake and thinking. The more you do it, the less your brain rests and the more it demands from the rest of your body. You were a neuro surgeon and you haven't figured that out? Your body is reacting like you haven't slept because you haven't let your brain calm down and sort things out."

Stephen frowned, opening his mouth for a moment and then closing it, looking down at the floor. He crossed his arms. "That would be why the defibrillator worked," he muttered. "That does make sense."

Wong threw his hands up and turned away, dropping them to his sides with a dramatic smack noise.

"It's not just your health that's at risk, either anymore," he reminded, turning back around. "You're master of the New York sanctum. You can't afford to be mentally exhausted."

He cleared his throat, closing the new book and moving papers around. "I see." He inhaled and looked at Wong. "I think I am going to go lay down," he announced. "Wake me if there's trouble."

Wong rolled his eyes as Stephen walked briskly out of the room.

He began collecting the books Stephen had forgotten to put away, stepping around papers and sighing through his nose as he bent to pick them up. He looked over the notes stacked messily in his arm as he headed back towards the library, nearly tripping as the cloak of levitation went rushing by. He startled and glared after it, seeing only a blur of red as it rounded the corner and disappeared. He shook his head. "No wonder they get along so well," he muttered.

An hour later, after he'd cleaned up Stephen's mess and straightened the relic room, he glanced down the hall towards Stephen's bedroom. He knew the other sorcerer was probably fine, but he decided he'd better check just in case. He didn't feel like becoming the new master of the sanctum all because Stephen forgot to sleep.

Strange was laying on top of his covers, face down on his bed. He hadn't bothered to change or even take his boots off—he was just laying diagonally across the quilt with his arms sprawled out so that one was partially hanging off the side. Draped over him and tucking him in almost possessively, was the cloak. Wong shook his head a little at the sight, moving around to feel the wrist Stephen had hanging off the edge. Before he could, the cloak raised a corner and smacked his hand.

"Hey," Wong whisper hissed, glaring at the relic. He had a proverbial stare down with it before trying again, only to get his hand smacked away. Strange, completely passed out, was oblivious. "I'm not going to hurt him, I need to check his pulse."

The cloak bunched up, tucking itself even closer to Stephen's body as though it didn't trust Wong's word. Some relics were more aware than others, and the cloak of levitation was by far the most sentient that Wong had ever come in contact with. Despite that, he wasn't sure talking to it was the right course of action, but it wasn't like he was going to get into a magic battle with an enchanted piece of clothing.

"Look, I'm the one who told him he needed real sleep. We're on the same side." The cloak twitched, but it didn't let up right away. Just as Wong was ready to try and force it to let him near Stephen the cloak seemed to relax and curled its edge carefully around Stephen's arm, turning it gently so his hand was palm up and his wrist was exposed.

"Yes, finally. Thank you." He rest his fingers against Stephen's pulse point and glanced at the clock on the mantle, counting silently for a full minute. 53. "Much better," he murmured, letting go. The cloak let Stephen's arm dangle off the side again, slithering back to tuck a little closer around his neck and shoulders. Wong gave a side glance at the cloak as he got up from his crouched position and left.

"Well, at least it's not just on me to watch him," he sighed.


End file.
